


All Bets Are Off

by simeysgirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 12:34:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1605368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simeysgirl/pseuds/simeysgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry loses a Quidditch match and he's <i>mad</i>. He needs answers and knows exactly who to get them from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Bets Are Off

**Author's Note:**

> This is my fic for the 2014 [](http://dracotops-harry.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://dracotops-harry.livejournal.com/)**dracotops_harry** fest. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Eternal thanks and cupcakes to G for everything ♥

**Title:** All Bets Are Off  
 **Prompt Number:** [PROMPT #69](http://dracotops-harry.livejournal.com/255266.html?thread=2291490#t2291490)  
 **Summary:** Harry loses a Quidditch match and he's _mad_. He needs answers and knows exactly who to get them from.  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Warning(s):** None  
 **Word Count:** 2640  
 **Author's Notes:** This is my fic for the 2014 [](http://dracotops-harry.livejournal.com/profile)[**dracotops_harry**](http://dracotops-harry.livejournal.com/) fest. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Eternal thanks and cupcakes to G for everything ♥

The wind rushed past Harry, biting into his ice cold cheeks as he pushed himself further and faster. _Fifty feet. Forty feet. Thirty feet._ Harry flattened himself to his broom as he chased the tiny gold Snitch sparkling in the distance. He thought of nothing else; he wanted that ball. He _needed_ to get to that ball. Harry ignored his team mates' shouts of encouragement as he concentrated on nothing but the Snitch and the man on the broom beside him, also flying expertly towards their shared goal.

 _Twenty feet. Ten feet. Five feet..._ Harry held out his arm as his fingers closed around nothing. _Nothing._ He hadn't caught it. Harry was dumbstruck.

The cheers of the crowd erupted around him, causing Harry to finally open his grip and take note of what had happened. He'd lost. After three hours of battling high wind and driving rain, he'd actually fucking lost.

It may have only been a charity match, in aid of some charity Hermione had badgered him about for weeks, but he still wanted— _needed_ —to win. Losing had never been an option.

The Aurors were supposed to beat the flunkies from the Minister's office. How could his team of athletic, made-for-this-shit Aurors be beaten by a bunch of diplomats who got out of breath if the lift was out of order? It was bollocks. If it had been a game of who could write the most boring speech, then yes, Harry would've put money on the pencil-pushers to win. But Quidditch? Fuck. He was never going to live it down.

Harry's team mates despondently flew down to the pitch, shaking hands with the opposition, but Harry just flew around, thinking about that final chase for the Snitch. He should have made it. His broom was faster, better. _He_ was faster, better. He had been ahead by a good margin. He _should_ have reached it first. There could only be one explanation.

Draco Malfoy was a dirty, rotten, good-for-nothing cheat.

~

Harry was fuming. He needed to confront that bastard. There was no way—charity match or not—Malfoy was getting away with cheating him to the snitch. His broom had hardly ground to a halt when Harry jumped off, storming into the changing room.

Both teams were there, in various states of undress, banter flying freely between them, no doubt chatting about which pub they were going to or something else that Harry couldn't give a shit about. Harry couldn't believe it. Did no one else care that they'd been cheated? Well, he was going to do something about it.

“Right!” Harry shouted, slamming the door behind him. “Don't you fuckers have your own homes to shower in? Get out, you useless bastards.”

He wasn't Head Auror and captain of the team for nothing. One by one, his team—and even the opposition—Apparated away, but not before rolling their eyes at Harry. Harry didn't care, he was used to people rolling their eyes at him recently. They just didn't understand how seriously he took his Quidditch. If they took it half as seriously as him, maybe Harry would have been the one to lift the tiny silver cup, not the cheating git.

The cheating git who Harry knew was still in the bloody shower. He never had listened to anything Harry said.

The glint of silver casually thrown on top of a pile of towels incensed Harry further. Malfoy didn't even care about the trophy!

“Malfoy!” Harry shouted, stomping towards the shower, ripping his gloves off as he walked. He wanted to strangle Malfoy, and his gloves would only get in the way.

“Potter,” Malfoy said, nodding his head, not even trying to hide his smug grin.

His voice was so polite it just made Harry angrier. Did he think it was some sort of joke?

“Why did you send everyone away? I understand, of course; I like to shower in peace, too.”

“Oh, fuck off. I wanted to talk to you and that useless group of crap don't need to be around to hear it. They can get it on Monday.”

Malfoy coughed and Harry smiled. Maybe he did scare Malfoy, even a little bit.

“So, talk. And please, do hurry up. I have things I need to attend to.”

Harry growled. He was fuming, and Malfoy thought he could just turn his back on him and finish showering? “What the fuck, Malfoy?”

“What?” Malfoy asked innocently. “You can talk; I can hear you perfectly well over the noise of the shower, don't worry.”

“How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

Malfoy still had his back to him. Harry tried his best to concentrate on his anger and not the water running over Malfoy's arse. He _needed_ to concentrate on his anger now. He could think about Malfoy's arse later when he'd said what he need to say and found out what he wanted to know.

“Seriously, Potter. What are you talking about. Now, are you showering or not? As I said, I have things I need to get to.”

“You know damn well what I'm talking about. How did you do it? How did you cheat?”

Malfoy span around, splattering Harry with drops of water. “Cheat? _Cheat?_ ”

Harry hadn't seen Malfoy look so angry in a long time. It brought back memories of school. Harry tried to ignore how much that turned him on. He had answers to get.

“Yes, cheat. I should have got that snitch. It was mine. I should have got there first.”

“I don't cheat, thank you very much, as you well know.”

As he spoke, Harry noticed that Malfoy didn't actually look angry—he looked hurt.

“But—”

“No,” Malfoy said, advancing on Harry, showing no attempt to cover his glistening, wet, naked body. “I won. What is that phrase Weasley keeps saying? Fair and square, that's it. I won, fair and square. No cheating. Just skill and a fuckload of practising. While you were off investigating your little crimes and staking out your little criminals, I was out on the Quidditch pitch daily. I've worked for this, Potter, and I've worked bloody hard.”

Harry scoffed, but silenced immediately when Malfoy grabbed hold of his robes.

“I won,” Malfoy reiterated, pushing Harry's robes off his shoulders and dropping them to the wet tiles, “and I need to collect my prize.”

Harry gulped and looked towards the changing room.

“No,” Malfoy said, “I need more than that piddling, little trophy and you know it.”

Harry should have run. He should have told Malfoy to fuck off and left. He shouldn't have pushed Malfoy back against the shower wall and kissed him. He should definitely have not let Malfoy carry on undressing him.

But he did. He pushed Malfoy back into the spray of the shower and kissed him. _Hard_. He let Malfoy's wet fingers undo all the annoying little buttons on his soaked through Quidditch kit. He let Malfoy strip him completely. He didn't care as his wand clattered to the floor. He certainly didn't care when his pants joined it and Malfoy's hand wrapped around his rapidly hardening cock.

He couldn't have stopped it if he'd wanted to. Malfoy was determined to collect his prize and Harry realised that he _really_ didn't want to stop him.

As Malfoy's hand worked, his tongue slipped into Harry's mouth. Harry gasped and pushed Malfoy harder against the wall, gripping his arse tightly as he did. Water cascaded down on them and Harry pulled back slightly, needing to breathe.

Malfoy's right eyebrow raised in question. Harry smiled and answered by pulling Malfoy back to him, their hard cocks sliding against each other. Malfoy laughed and flipped them, Harry's back slamming against the tiles.

“Gah! Cold!”

“Oh, shut up, you big baby,” Malfoy said, lifting Harry's by his arse and kissing him again. “How do you want to do this?”

Harry struggled to find words as Malfoy kissed his neck. Merlin he loved to have his neck nibbled on. Harry gripped Malfoy's hair, pushing his head into the crook of his neck. Malfoy bit and sucked as Harry dug his fingers into Malfoy's hair. Harry fully expected Malfoy to bitch about it, but he could cope with that. _Afterwards_.

“Like this, then?” Malfoy asked, wrenching his head up, fingers digging into Harry's arse, edging towards his goal.

“I didn't exactly come prepared,” Harry finally said.

“Not expecting to lose. How typical of you.” Malfoy's fingertips gently teased Harry's hole and Harry pushed down, trying to get more. “Luckily for you, I did come prepared.”

“To lose?”

Malfoy growled and Harry quickly kissed him again, moaning as Malfoy dropped his legs. “Where are you going?”

Malfoy didn't answer, he just knelt beside his wash bag, giving Harry an unimpeded view of his gorgeous arse.

“I knew I'd win.” Malfoy said silkily as he walked—no, sauntered—back to Harry, a tube of lube dangling from his fingers. “I knew I'd beat you. I knew I'd be having you right here. I knew I'd—”

Harry shut him up with a kiss. “You talk a good game, Malfoy. Now shut up and—”

Malfoy did just that, pushing Harry back under the hot stream of water. Harry loved to cede control during sex. He had realised long ago that it was probably due to him having to be in charge on a day-to-day basis, but with Malfoy teasing his arse with maddeningly slow caresses, Harry didn't care _why_ he liked it. He just thought it was fucking hot.

“Turn around,” Malfoy said, an enticing harshness to his voice that Harry couldn't— _wouldn't_ —disobey.

Harry did as he was asked, bracing himself against the still-cool tiles with his hands, water running down his back. Malfoy started at the nape of Harry's neck, kissing his way down his back. Harry gasped as Malfoy pulled at his arse, opening him up. He could feel the hot water between his cheeks, knowing that he wanted _more_. He wanted Malfoy _there_. He wanted Malfoy, full stop. Harry hadn't felt so aroused in a long time; he didn't know how long he was going to last with Malfoy playing, _teasing_.

“Draco, _please_.”

Harry moaned as he felt a fingertip gently pushing into his hole. No, not yet! He wanted Draco's tongue! But he was lost, he couldn't form the words he needed. “Please...”

The finger slipped from his hole, and Harry gasped. He pushed his arse back. He needed Draco; where had he gone?

“I know what you want, Harry. And you're not getting it until you apologise.”

Apologise? For what? Harry couldn't think straight, not with Draco kissing up his neck again.

“Say you're sorry, and you'll get exactly what you want,” Draco whispered in his ear.

“S-s-sorry,” Harry choked out, not knowing what the hell he was apologising for. “Sorry!” he said louder as Draco slipped down to his knees again.

“There it is,” Draco said, and Harry could _hear_ the grin.

And then Harry's brain shut down as he felt Draco's tongue against his arse. _That_ was what he needed. Harry lost himself in his arousal as Draco expertly licked and sucked and opened him up. Harry didn't know how in Merlin's name his legs were still holding him up, they felt as if they were made of jelly. Draco's hand reached around for Harry's cock, and Harry jerked. No! He wasn't ready to come. Not yet. Not until Draco was buried deep inside him.

Harry cried out as a finger pushed into his arse beside Draco's tongue, sliding in smoothly, another soon joining it. Harry could feel his legs start to give way and Draco was there, an arm wrapped around Harry's middle, holding him up.

“I love you like this,” Draco whispered into his ear, “all needy and wanton.”

Harry didn't give a shit what Draco loved, all he could think about was Draco's cock in his arse. But he loved Draco's voice in his ear, telling him how much he wanted him. It made him—if it was possible—more turned on.

“I can't wait,” Draco said, his fingers picking up pace, a third soon joining the other two. “I've been dreaming of collecting my prize. I'm going to enjoy this.”

Harry gasped as Draco's fingers slipped from his arse. He didn't have time to mourn their loss as Draco's cock slid in, causing them to both cry out at the same time. Harry braced himself against the tiles and pushed back, forcing Draco deeper.

Draco's hands gripped his hips harder, his fingertips digging in as he fucked Harry. Exactly how Harry loved it, wanted it, needed it.

Harry needed more. The feel of Draco's cock inside him, the feel of Draco's fingers digging into his skin. It wasn't enough. He wanted Draco deeper. Harder, faster. Harry pushed himself back as Draco picked up speed. Yes, yes!

Harry screamed as he came, Draco fucking him faster and harder until he was also coming with a scream. Draco's strength finally faltered and they both slipped to the wet floor, panting and trying to calm their breathing as the hot water still rained down on them.

Grasping around, Harry found his wand and turned the water off, quickly drying them both so they wouldn't get cold. Pushing himself to his feet, he held a hand out for Draco.

“Thanks,” Draco said, not dropping Harry's hand as they went to the changing room to find their clothes.

“I take it you liked your prize,” Harry said, not missing Draco grinning like an idiot.

Draco threw Harry his jeans out of his bag. “Of course,” he said, “and don't go pretending you didn't.”

Harry did the mature thing and stuck his tongue out. Once they were both dressed, Harry grabbed hold of Draco and tried to kiss him.

“Oh no, you don't,” Draco said, wriggling free. “I haven't forgiven you yet.”

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. Forgiven him? For what?

“I didn't cheat, Harry.”

“Fuck, Draco,” Harry said, pulling Draco to him, “I'm sorry. You know what I'm like with Quidditch. And there was a lot riding on this game.”

Draco laughed and bent to pick up the tiny silver cup. “Here, have it.”

“You know that's not what I meant,” Harry said, elbowing him in the ribs. “I just really, _really,_ wanted to win.”

“And if you had, I wouldn't have bitched—”

Harry scoffed.

“Much. I wouldn't have called you a cheat, anyway. I won the bet, and this was my choice. Live with it.

“If you'd won, we'd be having sex in the bloody Minister's office, and I would have done it without question. Even though I have to work there, and I'd be thinking about fucking you every time I had a meeting in there.”

“And I would be thinking about it every single fucking time good old Mervin cut another budget. Me and you fucking right there on his desk.”

Harry trailed off, wistfully thinking about what might have been. He'd have loved to have _something_ over that smug git of a Minister, even if it was something only he and Draco knew about.

“In that case,” Draco said, reaching into his bag, “I have a bonus for you. You were awfully close to getting that Snitch, after all.”

Harry's eyes widened and he couldn't help but grab Draco and kiss him hard. After all, it isn't every day your boyfriend _appropriates_ the key to the bloody Minister of Finance's office for you.


End file.
